


Perf

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:32:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunately, Bilbo’s clever solution to muffle his own pheromones doesn’t stop Fíli’s from getting to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perf

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “To prevent his heat from happening, Bilbo takes some special herbs during the journey. Not only this infusion works as a contraceptive and heat suppressive, but also diminish the sweet smell omegas produce when they are fertile. They work fantastic for hobbits alphas, but not so much for dwarrows. Because DoYC can smell Bilbo's fantastic fragrance, and needs to use every single stubborn fibre on his body to not pounce the hobbit and claim him in the middle of the road. + As a thing, maybe dwarrows do not experience heats/sexually attraction with ALL omegas, just with their One. So when DoYC starts to feel weird around Bilbo he is not completely sure what is going on. + DoYC could be anyone (Bilbo/Fíli is my kryptonite, but any dwarf is fine)” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23189716#t23189716).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The herbs can take the edge off his heat, they can act as contraception, and they can hide his smell from alphas, but they can’t hide an alpha’s smell from _him_.

No matter how much Bilbo tries, how hard he works to stay prim and proper and a good little hobbit, a single smile from a certain dwarf tears him down every time. It was hard enough, the first time they all burst into his home, reeking of sweat and dominance and overpowering _sex_ , but it was worse on the road. They all sleep in close confines, sit around the same campfire, and worse, bathe together in rivers. But Rivendell is the worst of all; whenever the sunlight catches in golden hair, Bilbo’s breath gets taken away. He sits across from Fíli at most of the meals, watches the cool breeze rifle through his intricate braids, takes in the subtle way he sways to the lilting music. For all the dwarves’ complaints, Rivendell is paradise to Bilbo, and seeing Fíli silhouetted against its beauty is almost too much to bear. 

Up until now, there’s been nothing he could do about it. There’s been no privacy since he left Bag End, until, finally, Elrond’s given him a single bedroom. He can hide beneath the cream sheets, devoid of all his clothes, run trembling fingers along his warming body and wonder what it would be like to have an _alpha over top of him._

He’s taken the herbs for a long, long time. He took plenty for the journey. He never wanted any hobbits, but dwarves—how could he stand a chance with dwarves? And the one he wants is a crown prince to boot. Fíli’s the most handsome of the dwarves, one of the youngest, and one of the most _fun_ , but in a more sweet, mature way than some of the others. He’s not so dreadfully _big_ , and his beard isn’t an intimidating mass. He has an alluring voice, enthralling eyes, and the sort of scent that makes Bilbo always spread his legs just that little bit more, wanting to throw himself down and thrust his rear into the air in offering. 

He couldn’t do that in the woods. In his private room, he can press his palm between his legs, rub along his hardness, and squeeze his tight channel around the juices that are bubbling up. His heat might be held off, but he can still prepare for an alpha, just like every omega does when they’re dizzy with lust. It’s a shameful thing to do by oneself—by hobbit standards, anyway—but Bilbo’s been around dwarves too long to care. He’s gone too long without release. He strokes his length with one hand and covers his mouth with the other, trying to swallow all his whimpers. His hips roll into his hand more with each thrust, his ass wriggling against the sheets, leaking and wanting to be _filled_ ; if only he could’ve been hired as a royal courtesan, instead of a lonely burglar...

The second the door bursts open, Bilbo squeaks and shoots up in bed. On instinct, he grabs the sheet, pulling it around himself, trying to hide his perked nipples. He can feel his cheeks catching fire. He has to scold himself for not barricading the door—he should’ve learned from Bag End that dwarves don’t follow the common courtesy of knocking. 

To make matters even worse, it’s Fíli that steps inside. Of course it would be. For once, Kíli doesn’t appear to be at his side, which is a small blessing—even though Bilbo’s heart doesn’t race for Kíli the way it does for Fíli, both brothers are stunning, and the two of them together is a bigger wet dream than any poor hobbit omega could handle. 

Fíli looks almost as flustered as Bilbo is. He slams the door shut with a flick of his hand, not out of anger but simply because dwarves are like that. Bilbo sometimes wonders if all the doors of Erebor are made of stone, where knocks can’t be heard through it and a person _has_ to give a hard shove to make it close.

Whatever’s on Fíli’s mind was evidently on it before he walked in on Bilbo. He doesn’t even seem to notice Bilbo’s state, just rakes a nervous hand through his hair and asks Bilbo, “Can we talk?” Uncharacteristically, he’s frowning.

As soon as Bilbo mumbles, “Yes,” mostly out of shock and partially because Fíli’s pheromones are singing to Bilbo, begging to never be out of his sight. With a curt nod, Fíli plops down on the mattress, right next to the indent of Bilbo’s legs. Bilbo keeps the sheets pulled up higher than need be so they can’t fall flat across his lap and show the prominent bulge. 

For a moment, Fíli seems to struggle with himself. He doesn’t look at Bilbo, and Bilbo gets the distinct impression that he’s doing it on purpose—for whatever reason, he can’t bring himself to meet Bilbo’s eye. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he says, “I didn’t want to do this.”

“This?” Bilbo repeats, again barely a squeak—his voice is raspy from moaning. 

“I thought it would be best to ignore it, but it’s just gotten to be too much,” Fíli goes on. “I wanted to talk to the wizard, even thought of talking to Elrond while we’re here, about some sort of... I don’t know, herb or brew? Some concoction that could block it. But... then I spoke with Thorin, because it was just so _confusing_ —I’ve felt it before, but it was never like _this_ , where it just grabbed me and won’t let go, where I want it _so badly_ —and Thorin explained that dwarves only sense this for the omegas they’re meant to be with. So... even if I mess everything up... I think I have to try.” He pauses in his tirade, taking a big breath.

It’s Bilbo’s turn to be confused. That would be a mouthful even if his brain weren’t currently mush. If he understands correctly, Fíli is talking about... smelling an omega? There are a few others, none of which take herbs like Bilbo, in their group, though Bilbo can’t imagine why Fíli would come to him over it. He can’t offer any advice. All he can do is be unreasonably disappointed that a dwarf who was always out of his reach just got even further so. 

He has nothing good to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He just hopes this will be quick, so he can hop into a cold bath and never do anything so foolish as daydream again. 

Finally, Fíli turns to look at him. Bilbo tries to look positive, encouraging, though he’s not sure how well he does. Fíli seems to be struggling with himself, and then, all at once, bursts, “Bilbo Baggins, I want you to consider me for a mate!”

Bilbo’s mouth falls open. His head actually inclines forward, sure he’s heard wrong. It can’t be. He can’t attract anyone like this, much less a ridiculously handsome, brave, adventurous wild card like Fíli.

But Fíli rushes on, “I can’t help it—I know we’re very different—not even the same species! And you’re a very respectable fellow, but I could adapt for you, I swear. I mean, I’ll never be able to keep house or cook the way you do, but I can _try_ , and I’ll always keep you safe, and I know you like adventures more than you let on—I’d go literally anywhere with you! Well, after we get my uncle settled in Erebor, of course. It’s just that you smell _so good_ , and it drives me crazy. Every night since we’ve left has been one giant ball of confused arousal, and now I understand that it’s because you’re the one I’m meant to be with—although of course I completely understand if you don’t want me, but I had to _try_. Now that we’ve all been given rooms, and you’re not staying in the little camp some of the others have made... not sensing you around... I miss that. It _hurts._ I...” He runs off, shaking his head. He looks like a frustrated poet that’s just seen the most magnificent sunrise but doesn’t have any words to convey it. 

Except every word he already made burrowed deep into Bilbo’s chest, and he’d be falling over if he didn’t have a headboard and pillow already to lean against. 

He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s _overjoyed_ , but that doesn’t help him. When he tries to talk, he only cracks a smile. He almost laughs. He mumbles, dazed, “But I... I’ve been taking herbs... they’re supposed to suppress the smell.”

“Maybe they do for hobbits, but for dwarves...” Fíli snorts, then lights up in a nearly pained smile. “Bilbo, I’ve never smelled anything more delicious in my life, and my mother’s cooking could call me in from halfway around a mountain.”

Bilbo... had never even thought of that. He just assumed that it would for all alphas. It makes his blush deepen, to think that he’s been emitting mating pheromones this whole time, even if they couldn’t have been full on in-heat ones. He admits quietly, “I... I’ve taken them for a while. I didn’t want anyone in the Shire, and I didn’t want to trouble you dwarves, but... it only stifles my heat and stops my scent from going out. It doesn’t... erm... stop others from getting in.” Fíli looks confused again. Bilbo looks down instead, toying with the edge of the sheet still clutched tightly in his hands. He has to fight the urge to pull it up over his face. Fíli was honest with him, so it only seems fair to admit, “I’ve been... uhm... well... rather... _really_ attracted to your scent... I didn’t think I had a chance with you, so...”

Looking numb, Fíli asks, “Really?”

Bilbo nods. Even now, he can smell the overpowering stench of a ripe, powerful _alpha_ , just the sort he wants under these sheets with him. It isn’t quite dark out yet, but the setting sky washes in through the high windows to bathe Fíli in the perfect light, made better around his hopeful smile. Bilbo licks his lips. He has more to say. 

He can’t believe he’s going to say it. It’s so _improper_ , so _lewd_ , but when trying to attract a mate, how can he resist? He doesn’t want to miss a chance, and his body’s still _so turned on_ , even worse from the proximity of _Fíli_ ; his erection hasn’t gone down at all. He’s harder than ever, and his channel is slick and open. He mumbles, “I... even though I don’t have my heat, I... still have... _urges_... and I... well, I might’ve been thinking of you... just before you came in...” Fíli doesn’t look like he fully understands, and Bilbo shivers, letting the sheets fall down his chest. They still cover his lap, but it reveals his rosy nipples perked, his chest arching out. He licks his lips. Fíli’s eyes lower over him, skimming to his covered lap. 

And then they widen. Surely, Fíli can smell it, when he tries—the natural lubrication of a waiting omega, maybe even the precum that’s beaded at the end of Bilbo’s cock. Head jerking back up to Bilbo’s face, Fíli stares at him, then abruptly lunges forward.

Bilbo’s skull nearly hits the headboard, but Fíli’s fist has latched into his curls, holding him back, Fíli’s face tilting so their noses brush but don’t crush into one another, and then Fíli’s mouth is over his. Bilbo gasps immediately, opening, Fíli’s soft lips mirroring the motion to keep them pressed together. Fíli’s braids press into his face, Fíli’s mustache and beard tickling him just enough to make a tremor run through him. Fíli’s mouth is warm, wet, and just as _perfect_ as he thought it would be. 

Fíli lingers but still pulls away too soon. His fingers stay in Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo’s the first to talk, whimpering, “I... I’m already open and... and very wet... will you have me?” It’s sudden, but in a way, it feels like he’s already waited too long. He wanted Fíli the minute he stepped into Bag End the first time. Bilbo already knows this is the alpha for him. 

Apparently, Fíli feels the same way. Because he kisses Bilbo again, even fiercer than before, and his other arm loops around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him tightly in. Their stomach’s fit together, Fíli wearing too many clothes and Bilbo smaller but just as thick. Another breathtaking kiss, and Fíli turns Bilbo around, shoving him back so he’s tossed width-wise across the bed. Because it’s built for elves, they still fit perfectly along it. Lying on his back with the sheet slipping off him, Bilbo lifts his arms for Fíli to crawl into.

Fíli stalks over him, pushing right between Bilbo’s spreading legs. They hook to Fíli’s thighs, jutting into the air, and Fíli practically claws his tunic off. He tosses it crudely aside, Dwarven and messy to the last. But Bilbo’s too distracted by his taut chest and muscled stomach to care. Blond hair is matted all over it, but of course Bilbo expected that from dwarves, and he finds he doesn’t mind Fíli’s hairy front one bit. He lifts his hands timidly to feel it, and Fíli leans into the touch, gasping at the contact. Bilbo runs his hands everywhere he can, squeezing at warm skin and tight flesh, while Fíli wrestles with the front of his trousers. 

It’s difficult to be embarrassed with being undressed when Fíli’s naked a heartbeat later. He kicks out of his trousers and underthings, his strong legs just as hairy and well built as the rest of him. It’s Fíli’s crotch that Bilbo’s eyes mostly linger on. His cock looks _huge_ compared to Bilbo’s, slightly curved and lined with veins, throbbing and already stiff. It’s purpling at the head, crowning through the foreskin, and Bilbo experiences the cloying urge to have it _in his mouth._ That’ll have to be another time; his ass is just as hungry. He gets a glimpse of Fíli’s large, fuzzy balls, and then Fíli’s lifting Bilbo’s thighs, staring down at his own flushed cock and dilating hole. 

“ _Gorgeous_ ,” Fíli breathes, even though Bilbo doesn’t think he’s anything to look at compared to his chosen mate. Fíli looks in awe of Bilbo’s body, and his eyes hungrily rake everywhere before he fixates back between Bilbo’s legs. It’s clear that he doesn’t even have to finger Bilbo; Bilbo’s straining to open himself as much as he can, offering an invitation. 

Fíli positions himself for it. Bilbo, on his back and already breathless, can’t be of much use—he’s shaking with surprise and need. He simply watches while Fíli nestles the tip of his cock against Bilbo’s hole, then sucks in a breath and asks, “Ready?”

Bilbo’s been ready for ages. He moans, “ _Yes,_ ” and Fíli slams inside. 

Maybe it should be slow at first, but it isn’t; it’s one fast, relentless thrust that makes Bilbo _scream_ , his head tossing back and his chest arching off the mattress. He’s slid forward by the sheer force of it, his arms wrapping quickly around Fíli to hold on, fingers knotting in Fíli’s soft hair. There’s no pain—it’s like his body was _made_ for Fíli, and it fits just right, but it’s too much pleasure all at once. Fíli groans atop him, buried already to the hilt, and grinds inside, while Bilbo’s ass clenches at its prize, secreting juices all the harder around it. He can feel that his muscles are at their limit; this is as wide and as deep as he can go, and it’s just right. Fíli lowers down over him, one hand to either side of his shoulders. 

Then Fíli pulls out half way and shoves back inside, and Bilbo cries out, taking more. He cries out on the next push, too, and the one after that—each thrust from Fíli is as fervent as the last, passionate and exhilarating, adjusting slightly until it’s ramming that certain spot that makes Bilbo _writhe_. Bilbo screams himself hoarse, until all he can do is whimper with each thrust, and then he gets no chance to make any noise at all, because Fíli kisses him and muffles all his moans. 

Fíli’s _amazing_. Every time his front grinds into Bilbo, Bilbo shudders in delight, nearly breaking each time he’s filled to the brim. He might’ve been a delicate, domestic thing once, but he’s hardened since he left the Shire, and Fíli treats him like a true adventurer, giving him that thrill he needs, that wild, merciless pace that delivers far more pleasure than any hobbit deserves. And the _smell_ of Fíli is intoxicating. He reeks of sex, of wanting pheromones, of _Bilbo’s mate_ , and Bilbo’s dizzy with the thought of marking one another, so the whole world can know that this amazing prince is _his_.

It seems to go on far longer than Bilbo can take. He wants it forever, of course—Fíli’s cock _belongs_ in his body, and he doesn’t want to let it go. But it’s almost too much good at once, and he’s already sweating a storm. He’s squirming, and before too long, he’s trembling all over, and his head is thin, so overwhelmed. He doesn’t think he’d mind if Fíli fucked him unconscious. But he also wants to _feel_ it when Fíli fills him up. He doesn’t even realize until several rounds in that he’s been whining Fíli’s name over and over again between kisses, while Fíli hisses, “ _Bilbo_ ,” in his ear.

He finishes first. It’s bad manners, at least in the Shire, to come before an alpha, but Bilbo can’t help it, can’t control it, Fíli’s so _perfect_ , and he’s so _happy_. His cock splutters against Fíli’s bare chest, having not even been touched—if it had, this might’ve ended on the first thrust. If Bilbo could stop himself and hold back the rest, he would, but it’s too late, and he shoots several strings of sticky seed along both their stomachs, while Fíli keeps pounding into him. 

A moment later, Fíli _roars_. He shoves his hips hard into Bilbo’s ass, grinding, and a stream of hot liquid bulges out into Bilbo’s channel, filling him beyond his capacity. He gasps, squeezing to try and hold onto it, but that only milks out more, and it squelches around Fíli’s cock, dribbling down the cheeks of Bilbo’s ass. Fíli’s load is more than impressive. It seems to go on and on, painting Bilbo’s insides in Fíli’s name. When it does end, Bilbo wishes it hadn’t. 

Fíli spends one moment still suspended above Bilbo, their hazy eyes locked onto one another, both panting for air. 

Then Fíli rolls of to land at Bilbo’s side, collapsing in the sheets, pulling out of Bilbo’s ass to leave him gaping and dripping copiously. He can only hope they can clean up the sheets before the elves see stains. 

But that’s an issue for later. Right now, Bilbo’s whole world is _Fíli_ , and he rolls onto his side to cling to Fíli’s, no matter how scorching both their skin is. That was the most intense orgasm of his life. He can’t help but wonder why he ever took those herbs in the first place. But then he remembers: he hadn’t met Fíli yet.

When Bilbo gets his head back enough to speak, he mumbles, “I might stop taking those herbs.”

Fíli looks at him with a wolfish grin and says, “I’d love to taste your heat.” Bilbo’s cheeks turn completely red, assuming they weren’t already. 

Somehow, he winds up blurting, “Perhaps we should practice in the meantime.”

Fíli nods. They still wait several minutes, cooling down and basking in one another’s smells. Bilbo can feel the bond already forming between them—the mingled link that comes from finding one’s mate. 

Then Fíli pounces on him, ready to go again.


End file.
